


I make your heart grow cold

by OhGoshOhJeez



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Torture, Violence, dark themes, hoooh boy this is gonna be sad, scarecrow's fear toxin, scarecrow's toxin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhGoshOhJeez/pseuds/OhGoshOhJeez
Summary: "I ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴛ ᴏғ ᴀʟʟ ᴛɪᴍᴇs.I ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʟᴍs sᴡᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴄᴏʟᴅ.I ᴠɪsɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴋ ʙᴜᴛ sᴇʟᴅᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʟᴅ,ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ I?"Edward is unfrozen. Dazed, weak, disorientated, but with one goal still in mind; to destroy Oswald Cobblepot.Before he can get the chance to, though, he has a run-in with Johnathan Crane and his fear toxin, causing him to have some terrible flashbacks.Now he is trapped in his own mind, while Oswald desperately tries to bring him back.





	1. Rude Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> I really want Gotham to introduce Scarecrow's fear toxin AND Edward's childhood so I thought;  
> Why not combine both into one, heart-wrenching fic?  
> I think this would be an excellent way to show Edward's childhood in season four, I really hope they go with the idea :O

 

 

_Cold._

That was all Edward could register as his body slowly started to wake up. An overwhelming, intense cold, that surrounded and encapsulated his whole body.

_"Where am I? "_

Edward thought, wracking his muddled brain, trying to remember what had happened to him last.

The warehouse... Oswald came... Wait, no, there was Jervis and Jim Gordon, _then_ Oswald. An explosion and a fire extinguisher to the skull... The cop car, the docks, He almost had Oswald right where he wanted and then-...

Oswald had outsmarted him. He thought he was the one in control when all along, Oswald was. He'd turned the tables, revealing that the gun Edward pointed at him was empty, leaving Edward stunned and mortified.

He'd froze him. Oswald had frozen him, embarrassed and humiliated him, he'd made him vulnerable.

So why was he conscious now?

Edward attempted to reach out, only to feel an intense pain in his frostbitten hands. The sensation felt burning hot and freezing cold at the same time, so much so that Edward feared they might just snap and fall off.

His teeth chattered together, alerting Edward that his jaw was unfrozen.

His eyes were still unable to open, however, and they felt as though someone had squirted glue directly into them.

Edward realised he could breathe, and he did, gulping in large breaths as if he were a newborn, his chest ached and wheezed at the oxygen finally getting to his lungs. The entire time he'd been frozen, it had felt as though bricks were laid upon him, crushing and squeezing him, but keeping his body intact, so the pain was welcomed now.

Edward forgot how great breathing felt. He would have laughed in glee if not for the intense pain and agony he was experiencing.

After a few breaths, Edward gulped and tried to make an effort to open his eyes, feeling more rejuvenated now. He sluggishly opened his eyes, squinting as light poured into them. Everything was blurry, the fact that he had no glasses on didn't help.

Or...Maybe he did have his glasses on, but they were probably broken from the freezing temperature of the ice.

He blinked, his tear ducts finally functioning again.

How long had it been since he was frozen? Weeks? _Months?_

He could make out shapes now and it seemed he was on the floor. He could feel the hardness of the ground under him. His ears were ringing and his mouth felt drier than it ever had before. His whole body felt as if he had run a mile.

Edward pawed pathetically at the ground, trying to get his bearings. He felt water seeping into his gloves and his suit felt extremely tight, clinging to his body from dampness.

" _Augh..._ " Edward groaned quietly, before breaking into a coughing fit. His vocal chords must not have been used in a while.

At the back of his mind, he feared Oswald might be near, that he might decide to kill him, but his mind was too frazzled and he was too frail to care. 

This was all Oswald's fault. 

If Oswald hadn't killed Isabella, the woman he adored, he never would've had to shoot Oswald. Oswald was a selfish, arrogant, cruel man who made Edward feel sick to his stomach. It only took him a girlfriend to see his true colours. To see how terrible Oswald Cobblepot truely was.

How could he do this to his best friend? His _only_ friend? To the man he clamined he'd "loved"?

Edward was going to murder him, he was going to slit his throat and dump him into a river. He was going to make him _pay_ for everything. Including betreying the trust of someone who would've done anything for him.

Edward was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of screaming.

It was faint, but he heard the sound of screams through the ringing in his ears, muffled shouts and the sound of glass breaking, gunfire, shouting.

He gasped, trying to will his body to crawl somewhere safe, but he couldn't manage to.

"--n the back---Have great uses for that one--" He heard a voice say. The first voice he'd heard in what felt like months.

He looked up at the silhouette standing above him, trying to move out of the way before he felt hands yank him upward.

He was still shivering, his body was limp and heavy.

"..Where.. are you taking me..." Edward managed out, his voice gurgled. It was strange hearing the sound of his own voice again.

Edward felt the warmth of another person holding him, his face pressed against an unknown chest and fingers running through his hair, which would seem like a comforting gesture, but Ed only felt intimidation.

"You shall see very soon.. _Mister Nashton_."

Ed felt his stomach drop into his shoes.

_Mister Nashton..._

The name he'd used so long ago from the past he'd so desperately tried to put behind him.

_Mister Nashton..._

But how did he- this stranger Know? ..How did he _know_ ? Edward hadn't told anyone about his past, not even when he and Oswald were friends did he even begin to tell the horrors he had went through under that name. He'd never told _anyone._

"Why _is it that the past always has its way of finding me?"_ He thought to himself before he drifted off once again.

As his mind began to shut down in the arms of the stranger, he couldn't get those haunting words out of his mind.

 

_"Mister Nashton.."_

 

* * *

 

  


Oswald awoke abruptly to the sound of banging coming from the downstairs of the Iceberg lounge, he flinched, his eyes opening wide, stumbling out of bed.

He made his way down the hall, hoping that it was just the sound of a plant pot smashing like he had heard many times before from Ivy's doing.

Something about this felt...Different though. unsettling, even for Oswald.

He stopped outside Ivy's room, scrubbing a hand over his face. He peeked in the door, to find Ivy Pepper curled up under the covers of her quilt, snoring.

If Ivy was in here, then that must mean...

He waddled over to her side and shook her by the shoulder.

"Ivy...Ivy!" He whispered, urgently.  She snorted and winced at his voice, waking slightly.

"Huh.." She groaned, still half asleep. Oswald rolled his eyes, shaking her harder.

"What..?" She said, annoyed.

"I think there's someone downstairs."

"Mhm...Let Bridgit deal with it, she's always.." She cut herself off with a big yawn. "..Good with those things.."

Now that Oswald thought about it...Where was Bridgit? She'd surely be taking care of things if there were any problem, and Fries didn't sleep so there wasn't really anything to worry about..

"..You're right. Sorry, Ivy."

"I always am...Pengy.."

Just as Oswald was about to turn around and go back to bed, there was another crash from downstairs, followed by shouting.

Ivy startled awake, almost falling out of bed at the noise, looking up at Oswald with fear in her eyes.

They heard Bridget shouting from downstairs, she sounded hurt.

"Ivy, we need to leave!" Oswald helped Ivy out of bed, opening a nearby drawer and pulling out the small handgun he'd placed there in case of emergencies. He loaded and cocked it before turning back around to see Ivy, hurriedly picking up various small plant pots from her bedside desk.

" _Ivy!_ " Oswald said, sternly.

"What?! I need these!" Ivy retorted, holding the plants close to her chest.

Oswald sighed, gripping her by the arm and moving her down the hall with him.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, they saw Bridgit, gun in hand, shooting flames at an unknown target. She was clutching her side, blood gushing from the wound. She noticed Ivy and Oswald, looking towards them for a second before firing again.

"You guys need to help me out, like, _NOW_!" She yelled.

Oswald ran down the stairs as fast as he could, gun ready.

There were three people in gas masks standing little ways from them, both with large machine guns. Oswald aimed for one of the stranger's legs and fired twice, they dropped to the ground with a shout, their gun firing into the wall behind Bridget and Oswald, narrowly missing its target.

"Bridgit oh my god, are you hurt?!" Ivy panicked, fumbling downstairs towards the injured woman.

"Ivy- Don't!" Oswald pushed her back into the stairwell, just before a bullet flew by their heads, hitting a painting hanging on the wall.

Oswald gave Ivy a harsh look, gripping her arms tight.

"What are you doing, you fool, stay here!"

"But-!"

"Stay. Here!" Oswald cut her off before she could finish. She nodded, reluctantly staying where she was, one of her plants toppling from her arms, the ceramic shattering on the ground.

Oswald peered around the corner, ushering Bridgit to go behind him.

“Bridgit, there’s a fire escape just outside my-” The whistle of a bullet interrupted him, he flinched back, the bullet fracturing the corner of the wall he was in cover behind, missing Oswald by a hair.

“..Outside my bedroom window, Ivy stay with her, you two need to get out of here”

“But what about you?” Ivy said, Bridgit attempting to pull her back upstairs.

“I’m going to find Fries. Now, go! I’ll be fine!” He said, before turning and shooting at the non-injured attacker. The one he’d shot in the knee was crouched behind a toppled over table. He shot twice before he hit his target in the stomach, giving him enough leeway to run into the hall ahead, towards the greenhouse.

His bad leg was a bit of a hassle to run with, as it always was, but he managed.

The greenhouse was in total disarray, most of the many glass panels were shattered, the plants Ivy had worked so hard to tend to were strewn about and there were pieces of ceramic pots scattered everywhere. There were blasts of frost on the inside too, a few men, in the same outfits as the others Oswald had encountered were frozen solid, bullets they had fired were frozen in air.

Fries was fighting off a burly man, managing to hit the guy on the back of his head with his gun with a _thwack!_

Oswald rushed towards Victor, shouting,

“What in gods name is going on?! You were supposed to be guarding the place!”

“That’s kinda what I’m doing right now, boss!” Victor shouted back, a blast of frozen shrapnel shooting from his gun again at another gas masked- assailant.

“Where are the girls?”

“They’re safe; what the hell is happening?!”

“Beats me.” Victor turned towards Oswald's, his blue eyes seemingly glowing in the darkness.

“They took Edward..” The world seemed to stop around them. Oswald’s eyes narrowed, stalking up to Fries, giving him a look that would make any lesser man cower in fear. Or any man who had seen the news reports of The Penguin...

“What do you mean, _‘they took Edward’_?” Victor sighed, staring down at the bird-like man.

“They disabled the cryogenic chamber and took him. I couldn’t stop them, they shot Bridgit.”

Oswald felt rage boiling up inside him, his face scrunching up in anger.

“Well.” Oswald said, trying to compose himself. Giving a shaky smile. “We’ll just have to get him back then, won’t we?”

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Digging Up The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You fascinate me, Nashton. I have been studying fear since I was young, living in my father's shadow, doing anything he asked me to, in fear of being rejected...In fear of disappointing him.” Jonathan raised a brow at Edward. “I’m sure you understand what that feels like.”

Jonathan had been planning this for a while.

 

Ever since he awoke on that hospital bed, not knowing if his father was dead or alive, not knowing how long it had been since he’d been injected with that foul, terrible virus that caused his mind to be plagued with nightmares. Nightmares so vivid that he could feel the monsters hot breath on his face and their long, spindly hands climbing up his body, their nails clawing at his skin; he had only one goal in his mind.

 

To make people suffer as he had suffered.

 

He’d pretended to look upset when the doctors told him that the GCPD shot his father. It was strange, he found it rather easy to fake his emotions now that he didn’t feel much of anything. 

 

He had a strange sense of clarity since he snapped out of the fear paralysis, his mind seemingly more intelligent and mature, despite the fact he hadn’t stepped a foot outside his hospital bed in two years, never getting the chance to grow and experience most of his teenage years.

 

He’d rationalised his options. If he stayed where he was he’d probably never make any progress with anything. The people of Gotham would forget about him, he’d have little to no people come visit him. He’d be labelled as a psychopath's son, nothing more, nothing less.

He would die alone, plagued with the horrors of what he had seen in that bed.

 

He went with option two.

 

He broke out of the hospital that night, his body still weak from misuse and stress, but managing to make his way back to his old house in the dead of night.

 

He stayed on the down-low, reading up on the events of the past two years. Cobblepot becoming mayor, Don Maroni’s death, rumours of Fish Mooney coming back from the dead after being killed by The Penguin. A man named Jerome Valeska, who had held Bruce Wayne hostage, killed by a man by the name of Theo Galvan, then brought back to life with his face missing.

 

He learned about Hugo Strange, the scientist from a corrupt company known as Indian Hill, who created monsters and unleashed them onto Gotham, giving them a second chance at life but often with terrible disfigurations. 

 

Gotham sure was a peculiar place.

 

The person who he found himself to be most intrigued with, however, was a man called Edward Nygma, a forensic examiner for the GCPD who killed his partner Kristen Kringle, and dozens more after that.

 

Jonathan was fascinated by the mysterious man, who called himself “The Riddler”. What would lead a man to commit such heinous crimes, for apparently no reason? To up and snap one day, without any explanation as to why? How did his  _ mind  _ work? And could Jonathan tap into that?

 

_ This was a good place to start. _

 

He had learned a thing or two from his father’s work, observing his scientific methods from a very young age and with a little effort, some blackmailing, meeting with Hugo Strange himself and stolen medical equipment, he had finally done it.

 

He had  _ reversed  _ his father’s serum. It was no longer a  _ cure  _ for fear, but a fear  _ supplement _ .

 

He couldn’t wait to try it out on his first subject.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Edward awoke to a steady beeping noise in his ear. 

 

He opened his eyes a fraction, squinting at the white lights up above him. It took him a couple of seconds, but his world slowly started to come into focus.

It seemed like he was in a hospital room, with white LED bars on the dingy looking ceiling. 

He felt a weight on his finger, and sure enough, he was hooked up to a heart monitor. 

 

It was a crude version of a hospital room, it seemed like a warehouse dressed up to look like one instead of anything legitimate. There were dark brown stains on the ceiling and the lights flickered above him.

 

The covers were scratchy but warm, and Edward found himself sinking into them. How long had it been since his body was able to rest?

 

Edward’s mind was still frazzled, possibly from the low temperatures, possibly because he’d been in an ice coma for god knows how long, but he finally registered panic at his current situation.

 

Where was he?? Where was Oswald? Who saved him?   _ Was  _ he even safe at all?

 

“Hello..?” He called out, his voice echoing throughout the small room “Hello!?” 

 

He had no idea what he was doing here, He tried moving, attempting to get rid of the piece of plastic on his finger, but found that his arms were linked to the bed with thick leather straps.

He struggled, trying to loosen his bindings, but gave up, realising it was no use, he sagged back against the bed. 

 

A young man entered the room, a clipboard held against his chest, not even seeming to be paying attention to Edward, his eyes cast on his notes.

Edward eyed the young man warily, his expression dripping with scepticism under his broken, horn-rimmed glasses.

 

Edward didn’t know who he was expecting to greet him, but certainly not...Someone as young as this. Then again, this was Gotham, kids were going around killing people all the time.

 

He looked to be around seventeen, with wild unkempt brown hair. He had massive bags under his eyes, standing out in contrast from his unusually pale skin, far too much of a mature trait to have for someone as young.

 

He was wearing a stained lab coat that looked about two sizes too big, practically hanging off his shoulders and making his slender frame look even skinnier. 

 

Edward recognised him...somehow. He just couldn’t place it.

Back at the GCPD, maybe?

_ Yes, the Crane case! This must be Jonathan Crane! _

But then...Wasn’t he supposed to be in a coma?

 

Jonathan looked up from his notes, at last, his icy gaze finally landing on Edward.

 

“Mr. Nashton..” Jonathan started, giving Edward a dark grin. Edward grit his teeth together at the sound of his former last name. So this was who took him from the ice...

 

“We finally meet. I’m so glad!” Edward couldn’t tell if the boy was being sincere or not.

 

“Where am I?” Edward tried his best to keep his voice steady, looking Jonathan dead in the eye. There was no way he’d let himself be intimidated by a  _ child _ . No matter how...Creepy they looked.

 

“Ah, you can speak! Wonderful! After what happened to you I’m surprised you’re as lucid as you are. However, we still need to check for any signs of brain injury. It’s not very common for someone to be in your position and make it out without losing some form of cognitivism.”

 

Jonathan set his clipboard down on Edward’s bedside desk gently, before pulling a small flashlight from his breast pocket and flicking it on. 

 

He leant over the bed and reached for Edward’s face, guiding his head to look in his direction.

Edward squirmed, freeing himself from the boys grasp with an annoyed; “What are you doing?!”

 

Jonathan looked insulted, pulling back ever so slightly.

“I’m checking for signs of brain damage or concussion, your whole body was frozen almost to death, Mr Nashton-”

 

“ _ Don’t _ ...Call me that.” Edward said, his voice dangerous. “It’s  _ Nygma _ , Edward  _ Nygma _ .” 

 

Jonathan smirked at this, letting out a small puff of air almost sarcastically. 

 

“That’s not what I’ve heard, Mr  _ Nashton _ . It’s very unwise to give a doctor a false name, you know.” 

 

Edward grunted, his restraints stopping him from lunging at the teen, who was smirking knowingly. Edward was furious, how dare this- this CHILD try to get into his head?! 

 

Jonathan was acting as if he knew Edward better than himself, as if he knew the ins and outs of how his brain worked and Edward didn’t like it.

 

He didn’t like it one bit.

 

“How?! How do you know about-”

 

“It was quite easy to find a birth certificate of a man who, seemingly disappeared twelve years ago. What, did you think you could just change your name..Some files.. up and leave your hometown without anyone noticing?” 

 

“I- I made  _ sure  _ that my past was well hidden, I burned my birth certificate, I hacked into the registration office’s computers, I left no trace!” Edward protested, growing more impatient and agitated by the minute. He  _ needed  _ to know how Jonathan found out, he  _ needed  _ to.

 

Suddenly, Jonathan’s arm shot out, grabbing Edward’s face in his hands, nails digging into the back of his neck, his other hand grabbing a fistful of hair. 

Despite the aggression of his actions, his face remained completely calm. 

 

“ I did not bring you here for you to interrogate me. But fine; if you want to skip the check up, we can move right onto the main event..” 

 

“Which is? You still haven’t explained what you want with me!” Edward growled.

Jonathan released his grip on Edward and he fell back against the bed, giving a stern glare to his captor. He tried to wiggle his way out of his cuffs again. They were chafing against his skin, rubbing red marks into his wrists.

 

“You fascinate me, Nashton. I have been studying fear since I was young, living in my father's shadow, doing anything he asked me to, in fear of being rejected...In fear of disappointing him.” Jonathan raised a brow at Edward. “I’m sure you understand what that feels like.”

“Don’t.” Edward spoke before he could stop himself. The memories of his father were already flooding back to him, a pit of anxiety starting to form in his stomach.

 

“Aha! See, I knew it had to be parental issues what with you running away from home. Your old medical records indicated that you’d been admitted to hospital...oof, Quite a few times.”

 

Jonathan picked his clipboard back up from the desk and began flipping through it, while Edward was fuming atop the bed, his restraints clanking of the bed pole as he tugged at them

 

“General excuses...Bumped into a door, fell down some stairs, tripped over...Either you were a very clumsy child, or something else was going on. Either way, it doesn’t explain the hand shaped marks you’d receive. Why didn’t the doctors say anything, I wonder..”

 

Edward didn’t say anything, choosing instead to glare at Crane, face red from frustration.

When he didn’t respond, Jonathan continued;

 

“It even says you wound up having a broken arm at one point.”

 

Edward remembered that day clearly. He had just gotten home from school, his feet tired from walking all the way back to his house when his father never bothered to pick him up. Or course, the oaf of a man got angry with him anyway, told Edward  _ “If you’re so smart, why were you late?! What, don’t know how to read a watch?!” _ . His father always was jealous of his intellect. Edward tried to hide from him in a cupboard, but that only led to him being yanked out by the arm and tossed to the hard wooden floor like a rag doll.

 

Edward could barely breathe right from all the swelling in his face afterwards. He cried himself to sleep that night, his tears stinging the cuts and bruising on his face.

 

“Nashton?”

 

Edward jolted, snapping out of the memory. Why the hell was he so distracted? This all happened YEARS ago. He was The Riddler now! His father was probably dead in a ditch somewhere for all he cares.

 

Still, he couldn’t suppress the crawling in his skin every time Jonathan called him by his old name. He didn’t want to think about the past, not at all.

 

“Nashton, if you continue to ignore me you won’t receive very positive results.” Jonathan said, sounding like a teacher telling off a student.

 

“So I’m your lab rat, is that it?” Edward said, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“I’d like to think of you more as a test experiment”

 

Edward huffed out a humourless laugh,

 

“That’s even worse.”

 


	3. Just Peachy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the updates on this have been kinda slow O . O

Bridgit leant on Ivy’s shoulder, one arm wrapped tightly around her midsection, trying to stop the crimson seeping out of her bullet wound. 

 

The pain wasn’t that bad, it prevented her from walking properly because she had to hold the blood in, but she didn’t really feel it much at all.  She supposed her pain threshold was pretty damn high after being burned alive.

 

“Uh- Bridgit, you holding up okay?” Ivy panted, hauling Bridgit through the woods, Bridgit’s arm draped across her shoulder. She was pretty strong for her age, Bridgit noted.

 

“Just- Agh, Peachy..” Bridgit replied, looking over her shoulder for any sign of the gas masked strangers, making sure none were still tailing them.

 

“I think we’re clear.” Ivy said. 

 

Bridgit nodded, pulling herself off of Ivy’s shoulder, her fingers tentatively peeling up her shirt to assess the damage.

 

It looked about as ugly as she thought it would, a big red hole in her side, the skin around it pink and swollen. The bullet hadn’t gone straight through and it was probably still lodged inside of her.  _ Great _ .

 

Ivy gave Bridgit a worried glance, before removing her scarf and handing it to her.

 

“Here, wrap this around it, tightly. It’s the best we can do until we find Penguin again.”

 

Bridgit set herself down against a nearby log, her back and wound thanking her for the rest, and wrapped the DIY gauze around herself. The wound throbbed angrily as she did so, adrenaline was wearing off now and the burning sensation becoming more prominent in the cool, night air.

 

“...Does it hurt?” Ivy asked, settling down beside her. Bridgit scoffed.

  
“I’ve had worse.” She gave a weak smile towards the girl.

 

Just then, Ivy’s eyes lit up, remembering something and pulling a small capsule from her pocket.

 

“Oh! I got this before we left. All the others got smashed coming down the stairs and I had to drop some to carry you, but I managed to keep this one!” She unscrewed the bottle’s lid, dipping her finger into the smooth, green ointment. 

 

She lifted up Bridgit's bandages and began to slather it onto the wound. 

Brigit flinched at the touch, but the coolness of the ointment seemed to soothe the burning.

 

“This should help bring the swelling down...I’m sorry I can’t do a lot besides this, I mean, I’m not exactly a professional bullet remover” Ivy chuckled, nervously. 

 

“It’s okay.” Bridgit replied, taking the scarf back from Ivy and wrapping it once again, before leaning up against the log behind her. She gave a sigh, thanking the heavens that she could rest for five minutes...

 

She heard a crunch of leaves from behind her.

Alerted, she spun around, flamethrower at the ready.

 

“It’s me, It’s me!” Oswald said, raising his arms up.

 

Sure enough, there he was, looking worse for wear, Fries standing behind him, backlit by the blue glow of the cryo-suit. 

 

“Oh, Penguin!” Ivy said, standing up and rushing over to him, pulling him into a hug.

Oswald seemed to struggle a little, before sighing and accepting Ivy’s embrace.

...Not for long, though, as he scoffed, pulling himself away.

 

“Yes, yes, I get it, but we must leave right now. They have Edward and I-”

 

“They took Edward? Why?” Ivy responded. How on earth they managed to haul an ice block away, she’ll never know.

 

“I-... I don’t know, but we must make sure they return him.”

 

“Why?” Bridgit asked. “Why go get him back? I mean, it seemed like they did you a favour taking him away. It was just taking up space in the Lounge.”

 

Oswald’s face scrunched up, glaring at the Firebug.

 

“I’m sorry, do you want to sleep out here tonight?”

 

“ _ I’m  _ Sorry, did you forget who just took a  _ bullet  _ for you?” Bridgit responded, quickly.

 

There was a silence between the two as they stared daggers at one another, before Bridgit sat up, hand still pressed against her bloodied side.

 

“I don’t understand why you want to get him back so badly. He tried to kill you three times, isn’t that enough warning to keep your distance?”

 

“..Yeah boss,” Victor spoke up, confusion in his blue eyes. “Why  _ do  _ you want to get him back?”

 

Oswald thought for a moment.

The whole reason why he’d frozen Nygma in the first place was to stop him from trying to murder him without having to actually kill Edward. He did it to humiliate the man, to make him see that he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Freezing him had brought Oswald great joy, knowing that he could keep him in one place without having to worry about being thrown off the docks again or having his throat slit while he slept.

Now he was in the hands of some...stranger, whose uses for him were completely unknown. Would they kill him? Torture him? Or were they trying to save him, and why?

 

Why  _ did  _ Oswald care?

 

“Do you seriously think I’m going to let him run around doing god knows what? These people are probably working against  _ me _ , that’s the only reason why they’d take Edward and shoot up the place. I don’t know who they are or what they’re going to do with someone like him, but we need to get him back before all of us wind up dead.” Oswald said.

 

“So where do we start?” Ivy asked, “It’s not like we have a map to where they were headed. I mean, we’re not  _ detectives  _ or anything.”

 

Oswald nodded in agreement, before a thought came to him and he pulled out his cell phone, dialling a number into the keypad and holding it up to his ear.

 

“What are you doing?” said Ivy, before Penguin waved a hand out to shush her.

 

“Hello? Yes, I would like to speak to…” Oswald sighed, before giving in and muttering;

 

“Detective Jim Gordon..”

  
  
  


_ \------------ _

 

**_Transcript, 11PM, 13th of June 2017,  Gotham City Police Dpm. Start of tape:_ **

 

_ Jim Gordon: Hello? _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: Jim, my god. _

 

_ Jim Gordon:...Penguin? Listen, do not call this number again, you’re supposed to be behind bars. _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: Do you think I’d be calling you if it wasn’t urgent?! After what you did to Fish, do you really think I’d call if I didn’t know where else to turn? _

_ Jim Gordon:...What do you want, Cobblepot. _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: The- The Iceberg Lounge got ransacked _

 

_ Jim Gordon:...What?! By who? _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: I have no damn clue, there was a group of them in gas masks, they trashed the place and shot Bridgit Pike.  _

 

_ Jim Gordon: Christ, where are you right now? _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: Me, Ivy, Bridgit and Victor are in a forest East of where the lounge is, I have no idea where those bastards went but they can’t be far. _

 

_ Jim Gordon: Okay, just hang tight, me and Harvey- Yes you, Harv-  will be there soon.  _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: Wait, wait!  _

 

_ Jim Gordon: What? _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: There’s… One last thing. _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: They stole Edward Nygma. _

 

_ Jim Gordon: Edwa-....Wait, wasn’t he frozen in the- _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: Yes! In the ice, but they unfroze him and took him away, I don’t know what they want with him but it cannot be good. _

 

_ Jim Gordon:...Right. So we’re watching out for gas masked-gun wielding lunatics and a riddle-telling maniac? _

 

_ Oswald Cobblepot: Just hurry up and get here already! _

 

_ Jim Gordon: I’m on my way. _

 

_ Transcript: END. Tape: END. _

 

_ \----------- _

  
  


Edward Struggled as, what appeared to be an Oxygen mask, was strapped onto his face.

He’d been in this place for hours now, being poked with needles, sweating and still tied to the damn bed.

Jonathan had, at one point, taken about six vials of blood from Edward, as if he weren’t weak enough already. He twisted and squirmed away from Jonathan Crane, turning his head to the side.

 

“What is that?! I swear when I get out of here I’ll-”

 

“Come now, Edward, let’s not be difficult.” Jonathan said, in that monotone voice of his, tightening the rubber mask and pushing it over Edward’s nose and mouth.

 

Edward did the first thing he could think of and slammed his forehead forward, his skull smashing against the young man’s nose, successfully headbutting him with a dull thud. 

 

Jonathan reeled back, clutching at his nose with a groan. He pulled his hand back and eyed the blood coating his fingers.

Edward breathed heavily, a bead of sweat running down his cheek. 

Jonathan’s nose looked slightly bent now, the bridge of it red and puffy, clearly broken. He eyed Edward, a few strands of hair stuck to his face, as he brought his hand up once more to his nose, pinching the bridge tightly before setting the bone back in place with a sickening  _ crack _ .

 

The blood dripped down from his lip, dribbling under his chin and Jonathan...Began to laugh. It was quite horrible for Edward, considering that Jonathan never showed any sign of emotion before this.

Edward stared at him, his eyes wide, as the boy laughed, maniacally, his teeth stained crimson. His voice sounded rough like he hadn't strained it like this in a long time.

Then, he stopped altogether, his arm reeling back fast, catching Edward by surprise, bringing a closed fist down across Edward's jaw.

 

“ _Oof_!” Edward exclaimed, as his head was knocked back down onto the pillow. The force of the punch was so great that he began to see black starbursts in the corner of his vision, his jaw aching something terrible.

“That’s enough of that,” Jonathan said, climbing back off the bed and fixing his lab coat, walking over to the gas tanks he had hooked up to a panel next to the bed.

“Now Mr Nashton, I want you to count backwards from ten out loud. If you do not count I will remove one finger from your left hand. If you continue to disobey, I will cut it off at the wrist.”

Edward barely registered what Jonathan was saying before it clicked with him and a shiver went down his spine.

Jonathan started twisting the knobs on the gas tanks, watching as the numbered dials went up.

“Better start counting, Nashton.”

“Ten,” Edward mumbled, hearing the sound of hissing air making its way up the tubes.

“Nine…” He noticed something green start to flow through from the tank, progressing faster towards the mask attached to his face.

“E--Eight.” Edward was sure he was hyperventilating by now, what was this strange gas?! Would it poison him? 

Would it  _ kill  _ him? 

“Seven… Six..” 

He didn't even make it to five.

Edward’s nose and mouth were suddenly invaded by the horrible chemicals, it tasted like metal and it felt as though someone was shoving their fingers down his throat, scratching at his insides, like he was swallowing glass.

He gasped, arms writhing in their restraints, wanting to claw at his own neck, but not being able to. He couldn’t breathe, he could faintly hear the sound of his heart rate skyrocketing as his chest and lungs were filled with the toxin.

His surroundings began to warp and change, the room spinning around him, he felt like he was falling right into the bed, falling down, down, down, into swirling darkness. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t even hear himself when he tried, only the sound of his own pulse in his ears and the ringing of his head.

 

He shut his eyes for one moment...

 

And when he opened them he wasn’t in the hospital room anymore.


	4. A monster like us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I- I would….I wouldn’t have hurt you, I would never have hurt you, I loved you!”
> 
>  
> 
> “Don’t act like you wouldn’t have killed me! Don’t act like I wasn’t just a replacement for Kristen! You’re a monster, Edward, just like us.”

He was back in his childhood home, the walls and ceiling glitching and warping, making intimidating shadows around him.

He was clutching a school report card in his small hands, tears trickling from his face, tainting the crumpled paper as they plopped down onto it.

**_“You cheated, didn’t you?!”_ **

Edward’s body tensed, his blood running cold at the sound of the voice.

His father’s voice

He looked up to where the voice was coming from to see a large figure towering over his small form, teeth bared, his meaty fists clenched in anger.

**_“YOU CHEATED!”_ **

The _things_ voice was loud and distorted, Edward flinched backwards, dropping the report card and tripping over his own feet, landing with a hard thump on the ground.

“No! I didn’t, I didn’t cheat, I swear!” His voice sounded higher than he remembered.

The monster grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him up off his feet, before striking him, hard, again and again. Edward could feel bone snapping and blood starting to pour down his face, his glasses were cracked and bent as his father beat him until his knuckles grew worn.

Edward tried to reach out to his father, to convince him to stop, but his father simply scowled at him, before flinging him up against the wall.

Edward sunk down, cowering, attempting to crawl away, before feeling a kick to his ribs.

**_“You’re NOTHING! You hear me?! NOTHING! Nothing!”_ **

It’s voice was different now, higher and familiar. It sounded like _Oswald_.

**_“Just admit it! ADMIT IT!”_ **

Edward didn’t know what Oswald was referring to, nor did he care, he was more concerned with the seawater that started seeping from the broken floorboards and soaking his feet. It rapidly started filling up the room, now at his knees, as Oswald gripped him tightly.

“Please, Oswald we’re going to drown!” Edward cried, his eyes blurry with tears.

Edward noticed Oswald looked...Rotten. Like a corpse, his chest an open cavity, sickly black oozing out of the wound.

When his gaze came back to Oswald’s face he was grinning. A horrible grin that sent a shiver down Ed’s spine.

Oswald leaned in and kissed Edward forcefully, his tongue slipping past his chapped lips. Oswald’s mouth was cold and it tasted like rot and seawater.

A moment passed, Edward tried to pull away but Oswald’s grip on him was too tight, Edward grimaced when he felt...something crawling, transferring from Oswald’s mouth to his, squirming, thousands of them, it took Edward a second to realize that they were maggots.

Edward reeled back, finally pulling himself away from Oswald, spitting and heaving onto the ground.

Millions of white little bugs spewed out of his mouth and dissolved in the murky water below. Edward couldn’t tell if he got rid of all of them or not and the thought scared him.

Edward noticed something else in his mouth, though, something sharp digging into the back of his tongue.

He put his fingers in his mouth, feeling for the splintering object. He pulled and realized it was a piece of glass, embedded in his tongue, Edward groaned as he pulled and pulled until the glass finally came out, blood pouring from his lips.

“J-Jesus Christ…” Edward mumbled, the salt of his tears stinging his face.

“No one can help you now.” Two feminine voices said, simultaneously.

Edward looked up and gasped. Kristen and Isabella, side-by-side. Kristen’s throat was littered with bruises and her joints seemed to be crudely sewn together. Half of Isabella’s body and face were burned, still ruined by the train crash.

“Kr-Kristen? Isabella? Is that you..?”

“It’s not as if you deserved to be saved, though.” They said, completely ignoring him.

“After all, you were the one who killed us. You killed us, Edward.”

“No....No that was an- an accident and Oswald killed you, Isabella, not me, never me.”

“And who’s fault was it? If you’d never made friends with Oswald, I wouldn’t be dead. Besides, do you really think you wouldn’t have finished the job for him if he hadn’t first?”

“I- I would….I wouldn’t have hurt you, I would never have hurt you, I loved you!”

  
“Don’t act like you wouldn’t have killed me! Don’t act like I wasn’t just a replacement for Kristen! You’re a monster, Edward, just like us.”

 

Edward couldn’t disagree.


End file.
